My sister and I were bored one day, so we decided to do a writing prompt. The word was homeless and so in about ten minutes this is what I came up with. It is not my greatest work, but for some reason I like how it turned out.
Careful what you wish for, because you might just get it all. We all complain about our lives, want to escape maybe for a moment. To get away from the busyness and craziness that life brings. To rid ourselves of the hurt or just the mundane style of our lives. I am walking down the street; it is a fairly pretty day. Suns out, birds are chirping, life is exactly like it should be. I am heading to my work to be locked away in a cubicle none the less. I am feeling quite fed up with my life at the moment and I pass a homeless man just sitting there on the street side. I stop and study him and then I get this great idea.
“Let’s switch places.” I say abruptly. The man looks astonished, like I am some crazy man or something. I was feeling pretty desperate; I would do anything to get out of my current situations. He studies me as and I could see the wheels turning in his head. “Come on, it would only be for one day. Aren’t you unhappy with your life?” He looks down at his ragged green jacket and strokes his stringy black beard. “Oh right, you’re homeless. Of course you are.” The man shrugs his shoulders. “Do you talk?” The man shook his head. “Perfect, a man who doesn’t talk. So if we switch places I would be totally detached from the world. No job, no dealing with people, no worries…except personal hygiene, but I think I can handle that.” I take off my suit jacket, loosen my tie and hand it over. “Here take it, it’s yours.” I grin at the man reassuringly. We end up switching jackets. I try on the old dirty coat which fits me perfectly. I was already feeling better. I am relishing in the moment when I feel my ears and face start to tickle. I touch my cheeks and realized hair is growing, not before long I have a full beard. My hair has an untidy appearance. My shoes pop open and out come my toes, looking gnarled and dirty. My stomach rumbles. I look up horrified seeing a man I hardly recognize. He looks like he stepped out of a TIME magazine, with his professional and groomed appearance. “What is happening?” I scream ripping at my beard and tattered clothing. All of a sudden my voice starts to fade and I cannot speak. I gasp for words but they are lost in the roar of city life. I stare at the man with a bleary eye. This is not what I wanted. I want to feel free, not trapped. The man salutes and walks on.